


Enchant Me

by qualamity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Consensual Non-Consent, Don’t copy to another site, Dubious Consent, Knife Play, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay, Overstimulation, Pain, Rituals, forced obedience, magical slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 16:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qualamity/pseuds/qualamity
Summary: As Harry chases the elusive serial killer he only knows as Lord Voldemort, he finds himself cursed with an obedience spell. Unfortunately, he learns this only once he enters Voldemort's house to arrest him.





	Enchant Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miraculous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miraculous/gifts).



> so I made Miraculous beta her own fic. Also kudos to her for helping me with the title!
> 
> Prompt by Miraculous: While in the Department of Mysteries Harry gets hit with something that forces him to obey every command spoken to him - no matter if it was a joke or a figure of speech.  
> Not the best timing, really.

Harry's feet thumped against the black floor of the Department of Mystery and he sprinted through the halls, _this_ close to his target. The file was new but extensive. Name: Lord Voldemort (really?). Suspected of: killing eighteen men and women in the last five years to see the future with haruspication because he believed the entrails of wizards were more saturated with magic than that of animals.

He had lost sight of the fleeing coattails, but the tracking charm with which he had hit Voldemort's shoes still laid unnoticed, and Harry continued the pursuit with little regard for where he was heading, other than just enough care to ensure he wasn't about to run into any walls. 

Voldemort had slowed. Harry could see the man's black coat, a distinct opaque black in the halls of ever-changing night. "You are under arrest!" he yelled when he approached. “Drop your wand!”

"Am I, Potter?" Voldemort asked, twirling his wand. His voice was melodious, and he could almost be mistaken for a celebrity in Witch Weekly for his looks. If only he wasn't coated in the blood and guts of his latest victim, a witch who had only just graduated from Hogwarts two years ago.

"Our wards are up. You're trapped." 

"How cliched, Potter. I suppose you've caught me." Despite his words, Voldemort didn't look too concerned. 

Harry approached, wary of any traps Voldemort had set up. 

One step. 

Two steps. 

Three steps. 

The world exploded in a flash of light.

* * *

When Harry came to, Voldemort was gone, and Harry was surrounded by other junior Aurors peering down on him. 

"Where is he?" Harry groaned, rubbing his forehead, trying to rid himself of the headache trying to split his head apart. 

"He's gone, Potter. We’re sorry. He caught us by surprise," one of the Aurors said quietly. 

Harry thought about lambasting them for being caught unaware, especially since they had just heard about Voldemort, but he decided to give them time and debrief the next day. There was no use in making them feel worse when the group practically had a cloud of misery hanging over their heads.

"Do you need a healer, Potter?" another Auror asked. 

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm going to go over my notes again, see what I know about Voldemort's known whereabouts." He wasn’t going to get away. They were going to catch him.

But, Harry realised as he was walking to his desk, he could still feel the pinging of the tracking charm in his head, pulling him to a place far, far away. 

Excited, Harry exited the Ministry and apparated.

Voldemort had holed up in an idyllic two-storey house, with white walls and an actual white picket fence, flowers growing in an organised garden. A stone path led to the front door, beige with swirls carved in and an oval window made of opaque glass. It had a bronze handle, and Harry reached out and tried it.

To his surprise, it opened. Voldemort did not seem to be the type who was careless about security, but perhaps he felt safe here. Harry found himself in an elegantly designed parlour of dark green and silver. 

"Welcome, Harry Potter," Voldemort said, appearing at the base of the stairs. "Take a seat in the dining room." 

Harry was about to refuse, but he found his body walking deeper into the house without permission. There was a perfectly normal dining table, with two chairs at each of the long ends, but half the table was stacked with files and papers. The other half had two bowls and utensils, set in front of the chairs. The middle of the table held dishes of chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, and soup. Harry sat on one of the chairs.

Voldemort glided into the room and sat across from Harry. "What a good pet. Stay and eat up, Harry. We have a long night ahead of us. Wouldn't want you fainting." 

Against his will, Harry reached out and ate a piece of chicken and a bite of mashed potatoes. "What did you do to me?" Harry demanded when he tried to get up and arrest Voldemort, and his body didn't obey. 

"Did you know that house elves weren't always our servants?" Voldemort asked casually, a sudden divergence like he was a professor and they were at school. "They were once a proud, fierce race, and they feuded with the wizards over land."

"What's the point of this?" Harry bit out, his hand reaching out to pour himself a bowl of soup. 

"Patience, Harry. As I was saying, they feuded, until a wizard designed a ritual. It ripped them of their free will, bound them to families and eternal servitude. Freedom would mean death.

"The other wizards were so horrified by the spell that they destroyed all traces of it. But they reaped the rewards in any case, gaining servants with magically forced loyalty. One of them, however, kept a copy of the ritual. He wanted to reverse it, grant them freedom."

Harry tried to get up again and found that, once more, he couldn't. "What did you do,” he asked even though he already knew.

"Our current rituals can be so very complicated. Carefully etched out runic circles, hours of measuring angles, and so on. But back then, they knew less about magic, and oh, it was so easy to cast in a mere second. We're going to have so much fun, Harry."

Harry chewed and swallowed mechanically, eyes tracing Voldemort's every move. The man ignored him and ate with clear relish. 

* * *

When the meal was over, Voldemort ordered, "Follow me," and swept out the room. 

No matter how much Harry struggled and strained, he couldn't stop walking. Voldemort opened a door to reveal a clean bedroom. The bed took up most of the room, with black silk sheets that would show come stains clearly and soft bedding.

"What are you going to do to me?" he asked, shivering despite the warm air. 

"I’m going to make you beg for my cock for one. But mostly? I’ll be making you come until you forget your own name. Let's set some ground rules, shall we? First, you won't come without permission. Second, you won't leave the premises of this house without permission. Third, you will take care of your body and eat actual meals like someone who values his life." 

"You care so much about my wellbeing," Harry said, warmth creeping in a little despite his attempt to infuse his words with as much disgust and sarcasm as possible. 

"Of course I do. I always take good care of my pets."

"Do you fuck them as well?" 

Voldemort gave Harry a wicked smile. "No, I kill them. But you, you I think I'll keep. Now strip." 

Harry scowled at Voldemort—he hadn't ordered Harry to treat him with respect or look like he was enjoying this—as his fingers undid his robes and tossed his garments to the ground in a messy pile. 

Voldemort stared at Harry. “Pick up your clothes and fold them nicely.” 

He bent over and smoothed out the robes and set them on a chair. “What now?” he bit out. “Going to tie me up?”

Voldemort smirked. "What a good idea.” 

Harry cursed himself and watched his captor walked to the closet. It held more than clothes. 

Voldemort took out a thick coil of rope and walked back. He wrapped the ropes around Harry's body almost lovingly, hands working swiftly but never tugging too hard. The ropes were abrasive against Harry's skin, and he anticipated rope burns when—if—Voldemort untied him. Voldemort left his cock untouched, and Harry relaxed briefly, grateful for that reprieve. 

It didn't last long.

Voldemort's hand fell to Harry's cock, and he hardened embarrassingly fast despite the cold, dry skin. "Stand still," Voldemort chided when Harry tried to thrust into his hand, and Harry's body froze. 

His touch was too light to do anything but increase Harry's frustration, his grip too loose. It was more focused on exploring Harry's body than giving him any real friction. 

"If you're going to touch me, do it like you mean it," Harry snapped. 

"Oh, Harry, I think you're confused about who's giving the orders here."

He took his hand away, and Harry let out a curse. Voldemort wandered back to the closet and came back with an actual dildo. 

"I didn't think you'd have time to have sex while you were busy murdering people," Harry snarked. 

Voldemort smirked and poured lube onto the toy. He pressed it against Harry's hole and pressed in. The toy was small, and Harry was still loose from the previous night with his partner, and it slipped in easily. "Beautiful," Voldemort breathed, and Harry flushed from the praise.

"Reach back and grasp the toy. I want you to fuck yourself and hit your prostate with every thrust until you come." 

Harry reached back and obeyed. The ropes made his arm strain, an ache that quickly turned into a burn, and he thrust the dildo in and out of him, finding his prostate with an ease that had eluded him every time he tried this on his own. "But, but you said I couldn't come without permission," Harry panted. He groaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure when he realised Voldemort’s goal. "May I?" 

"You're such a sweet pet. Hmm, I think," Voldemort said as he leaned close to Harry's face, lips almost touching, "not."

An eternity passed. Harry's arm ached from fucking himself with the toy and his legs ached from standing and his cock ached from being hard. Pre-come had pooled at the tip and left smears on his abdomen, and _he wanted to come_. 

Voldemort had treated it like a show at first before settling in the corner next candlelight, ignoring Harry's desperate pants as he flipped through pages of a novel. Right as Harry was wondering if he was actually going to die from orgasm denial, Voldemort said, "Come," without ever looking up from his book. 

Harry orgasmed on the spot, blacking out for a moment. When he came to, he unwrapped his hands from the toy and slumped down as much as possible, gasping for breath. 

"Come again. Harder this time." 

The second orgasm tore through him, almost painful in its intensity, and Harry let out a shocked sob as his body shook. “Too much,” he moaned.

Voldemort finally set the book down and walked over to Harry. "You did so good for me, pet. You may rest now. Lie down on the bed." 

Harry collapsed on the bed, boneless and exhausted, staring up at the ceiling and he panted for air. 

"Get hard for me again, pet." 

Harry watched, horrified, as his cock came to life once more. Voldemort touched it again, a touch as light as before, but it was almost painful on his overly sensitive cock. "No more," he sobbed. "Please, I can't take it." 

"Oh, Harry, I'm sure you have two more orgasms left in you. You're still young." 

Two more? Harry tried to pull away from Voldemort’s hands. 

"Stay still," he ordered, and Harry ended up stiff on the bed once more. 

Voldemort's hand left his cock thankfully, reach up to pinch roughly on his nipples. "You look beautiful in ropes, but I think it does look rather uncomfortable." He grabbed the knife Harry had missed before on the nightstand and sliced through the ropes. 

The cold metal touched his skin, scraped roughly and leaving white lines behind that rapidly became pink as it filled with blood. Voldemort cut through the bonds before giving up the pretence of freeing Harry and continued running the sharp knife across his body. 

More than once, it dug down, left behind a droplet of blood in its place, and Harry whimpered at the sharp sparks of pain.

Despite everything, his cock stayed hard, and Voldemort's free hand strayed down again, stroking his cock. To his shock, the toy in him began to vibrate, and the dual stimulations had Harry begging, "Please, please, please," not sure if he could survive coming again. 

"Too much, pet?" Voldemort asked with a smirk. 

"No more," Harry moaned. 

"Beg me to fuck you then. You're finished when I come inside you." 

Horrified, Harry could only stare at him. The vibrations increased suddenly, and Harry tried to arch, escape the toy. The order held him in place. 

"Please, fuck me. Mark me as yours. Take me however you want," Harry babbled, saying anything he could to get Voldemort’s cock inside him. 

Voldemort flipped Harry to his stomach in a quick move and removed the toy before inserting himself. He was much bigger than the toy, and the stretch burned, but the lube helped him slide in.

Voldemort thrust inside him roughly, wrapping a hand around his cock at the same time. "Come," he said against Harry's ear, and he gave a pitiful cry as he came again. 

The thrusts grew more erratic as Voldemort grew closer to his orgasm, and he never stopped playing with Harry's cock. The whimpers seemed to delight him, and finally, Voldemort came, ordering Harry to orgasm once more. 

"You're released," Voldemort said as he met Harry’s eyes. 

The password activated runic array lit up around him, and it felt like his insides were being burned away. Harry felt like he was being ripped apart, and he let out a scream and he writhed on the bed. When he came to, Tom had an arm wrapped around him, and he was petting Harry's hair and body gently, soothing him. 

Harry curled up against Tom's abdomen, shivers still wracking his body. "Merlin, now I know why house elves don't want to be freed," he said. 

"Do you feel dizzy? Pain? Death approaching?" Tom peered down on Harry, clearly worried. 

"No, I'm fine." 

"So far. I still can't believe I agreed to do this." Tom grabbed a towel and alcohol wipes from inside the drawer of the nightstand and dabbed at the wounds on Harry's body before wiping the mess off them. "You're not leaving this bed for a week. Tell Hermione I'm going to kill her if this spell kills you." 

"I can't believe you managed to make me come four times," Harry said, still wincing. "I never want to come again." 

"I'll remind you that you said this," Tom said lazily. "Maybe after I edge you for a few hours." 

The very thought made him whimper, but his cock was too used for him to even think about getting hard again. 

"Thanks for playing along with the junior Aurors today," he said sleepily, trying to think if there was anything he had forgotten. 

"They're horrible." 

"They'll get better. Debrief happening tomorrow." Harry sighed and snuggled close to Tom. "Love you. Thanks for not killing Hermione and me when we suggested this experiment." 

"You're a brat," Tom said with a huff, meaning _I love you too_.


End file.
